The Academy of War
by Hades-the-Sexy
Summary: ANGEL ACADEMY AU Dean is the typical dick angel at the top of the pecking order at the Academy of War; nobody disrespects him & gets away with it. Then the Academy host a guest, & it seems Dean's world will be turned upside-down in their wake. Will Dean realize the error of his ways & be raised from his own brutish habits, or will the shift in power be the end of him? Pls Comment!
1. Black Wings

"Today we're going to learn about the major – and I mean major in a broad encompassing term – styles of angel combat." Hannah, Dean's War Theory tutor conjured three names into the air: Raphael, Gabriel and Castiel as the other students emblazoned everything Hannah said into their eternal, photographic memories. Ugh, Dean really didn't see the point of War Theory. He'd been at the Academy of Holy War for years now and theory had never come in handy. Sure, maybe for the nerds. Dean turned about in his seat and some dweeb called Coledai met his eye. The smaller angel looked down again as his creamy ochre wings fluttered with nerves; he knew that eye contact with Dean meant a bruising after class.

"Raphael's style of fighting is simple but effective." Hannah continued. Today the prim and proper angel looked male, but tomorrow they might be female, and some days it was impossible to tell. Most angels were gender neutral, but some, like Dean, had a particular preference. "We'll call it Strength and Intimidation. Raphael is very powerful and often can simply resolve disputes by making a display of strength to scare his opposition into submission. In the occasion where this fails, Raphael's fighting technique comes down to brute strength in a head-on attack."

Well that sounded familiar. Dean smirked and shuffled his dappled brown wings; he'd scared the crap outta many a challenger with his huge span. In fact he just loved it when some punk came up all brazen and brash, then found themselves in the massive shadow of their feathery, impending doom.

"Gabriel, on the other hand, uses Illusions and Deception to defeat his enemies, as he is by job description, a herald, not a warrior. Or was – nobody has seen him for millions of years, however we have personal accounts of those who fought beside him in the First Holy War."

"Deception and illusions are for babies." Josephus snickered on Dean's left, and Dean gave a huff of agreement. Those sort of angels needed to be taught the lesson that they belonged at Nerd School next door (The Academy of Lore), instead of cluttering up the space of better angels. Yeah, Dean's brother Sam went to the Lore Academy, and if anyone gave him a hard time, Dean would punch their Grace out their eyeballs. But Sam was family. That was different.

"And thirdly, we have the fighting style of Castiel." Hannah made the name glow brighter, but it didn't make Dean care more. "He didn't climb the ranks by just shaking hands. We call his style Speed and Brutality; one of the hardest forms to learn, but extremely effective and dangerous to against any angel or demon. His speciality is tracking and killing Fallen Angels that might join Lucifer, giving him the epithet Scourge of the Fallen."

"Why don't you include Michael?" Some preppy angel up the front asked and Dean felt his attention doing a sly climb out the window.

"Good point! But the truth is, asking you to compare yourself with either Michael or Lucifer would be like asking a human to smite a demon." Hannah conjured the names of the two most powerful archangels in existence and put them in a circle beyond the other three names. "If you ever find yourself in the unlikely situation of facing combat with Lucifer, my advice to you would be to run. Only two angels have ever survived a full-frontal assault from him. Can anyone tell me who?"

Hannah paused as though she actually expected input from the class. Damn, if he wasn't careful, his Grace was going to melt out his ears from boredom.

"Michael is the obvious one; he and Lucifer are on equal terms of power. But Castiel also faced Lucifer and survived. No angel quite knows how, but there's a reason he's the Third Marshal of Heaven." Hannah began to conjure up notes. Yeah, yeah, who cared about some frickin Third Marshal when they could be learning Raphael's moves with Uriel?

Dean rolled his eyes and sank back into a memory as Hannah carried on the nerdy crap.

Darkness hung in the air like a foul smell. Tell-tale vibrations gave Dean the warning he needed as a demon prowled through the alleyway. His father John hadn't explained what the demon's purpose was, just that if Dean didn't smite it, he wouldn't be allowed back into Heaven. At the angel equivalent of ten years old, there was nothing more Dean wanted to do than obliterate his first demon. Just the sight of its twisted mug of sin and evil made his Grace itch to end it. He slid out an angel blade that was about half his own height and crept towards the creature of Hell. This was it. Dean's still-fluffy wings just about quivered with exhilaration as he gauged the pounce, crouched, jumped and –

Smack!

The demon slapped him into a wall with a pustule-covered black hand. It had no wings, so it couldn't be a powerful demon; it simply had good reflexes.

"Oh look." That toothy, five-eyed face made a fake pout. "God sent a cherub to thwart my evil ways. How…adorable."

Dean gave a flap of his small wings and swooped in right behind the demon, but it was too quick; it grabbed his arm and twisted it with such force that Dean gave a cry of pain. The angel blade bounced off the tarmac like a solid moonbeam and this abomination kicked it down the alleyway.

"I could just eat you up, little Cupid." It hurled Dean into the concrete pavement and brought a clawed foot down on him again and again, until there was a nice Dean-shaped crater in the tarmac.

"Why don't you come here and try it, you pathetic son-of-a-bitch." The child-angel glowered as blood made tracks out his nose. The demon bent down and yanked Dean up by the hair.

"Oh I w – "

Before it could even finish its sentence, Dean summoned up every ounce of energy in his Grace, every inch of holy ire and smote the demon's forehead with a hand that glowed with white-blue flame. Light sizzled out its eyes as it screamed; the young angel had never heard a more satisfying sound. It was a shame he couldn't save the human it had possessed, but he'd do his best to lead that soul to Heaven.

"Dicaeomen? Is that – " Two demons rounded the corner and stopped short at the sight of their barbecued buddy.

"Stay back, you scum." Dean flared his very small, fluffy wings and called on the angelic fire within him again. Nothing happened.

"Or what pipsqueak? Looks like your balls haven't dropped far enough for you to get it up again." The demon's spiked face twisted with glee, but the insult went straight over Dean's innocent little head. His angel blade was halfway down the alley, but before he could wing over there, the other demon's tentacle snaked around his foot.

"Hey!" He sliced downward with his wings, but the demon's skin only hissed and smoked; full angel wings would've chopped it in half, but who said life was meant to be easy.

"How about we rip off those nasty little stingers, hmm?" The first hellspawn took him by the neck and pinned him against a wall.

"I'd like to see you try, you bastard." Dean spat in its face and was rewarded when the thing's skin melted. The demon growled and wrapped its talons around his wing-joint. The thing's tentacle friend clubbed Dean across the jaw again and again until the world was a bruised blur. Nobody except Dad knew he was down here and John might submit Dean to the humiliation of being saved, but he'd never hear the last of it. Sam could barely even fly, let alone take on two demons. For the first time in his life Dean looked up to the Heavens, looked up to his home and cried to whoever was listening for help. The world sparked. He could feel his Grace about to tear and drip out of him. Then, just as the alley faded, a light so bright Dean could barely look at it filled his vision. When he closed his eyes, the only thing he could see were two savage black wings stark on the back of his retinas.

Dad had always said he'd been the one to pull Dean out, that he'd heard him call and come to his rescue. In fact, he'd never let Dean forget it. But…Dean had spent many hours just revisiting those wings, and he knew deep down somewhere that they weren't his father's. John had mottled grey wings, kinda like Sammy's, and even if they had been silhouetted –

"Decanos?" Hannah stood in front of him, arms crossed. The rest of the class had turned to look at him too, but they all found the floor very interesting when he turned to challenge their gaze.

"What can I do for you, sweetheart?" Dean flashed his best smile. He hadn't tried to lose himself so thoroughly in that memory.

"I see." Hannah raised an eyebrow filled with an extreme amount of disinterest in him or his dashing smile. "I said, what's so special about Castiel that sets him apart from the other two?"

Dean searched through his vast memory, but couldn't recall anything. The names of every prophet on earth kept popping up for some reason, but that didn't help.

"Uhhh, has he got a rainbow halo?" Dean gave a cocky little smirk, and Josephus and the gang sniggered next to him. Hannah just gave a sigh and turned back to the floating notes.

"He's not an archangel. He rose from where we are today, and it would do you all good to look to him as an inspiration. Class dismissed."

Finally. Dean's knuckles ached to show that little punk Coledai what it meant to try and stare him down around here. Hey, he was the ruler of this roost and he couldn't let impertinence like that slide.

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Thanks for reading! I would love to know what you thought of the start, so why not hit up that comment section? c: I find the image of baby Sam trying to fly with fluffy lil wings so adorable hehehe.  
Fun Fact: Decanos is the archaic Greek ancestor of the name Dean lol c: Thank you for reading, and I hope you all enjoy the rest of the fic!


	2. The Good Life

Note: Some angels, such as Herias (who you'll meet) don't have genders, so I just refer to them as 'they\them' for want of a better expression.

"Uriel, my main angel, how're you doing?" Dean clapped his combat instructor on the arm.  
"Dean. Always good to see you raring to go." Uriel gave him a typical, slow smile. "Heard you and Coledai got into some trouble yesterday."  
"You know me, always getting into trouble." Dean raised his eyebrows with what he'd like to think was an adorable grin.  
"And let's keep it that way." Uriel nodded and they shared a look of understanding. "We wouldn't want anyone but the best on the front line."  
A chorus of rowdy yells told Dean his gang were in the training complex. The place itself was Dean's dream; every day Uriel summoned new environments and enemies for them to traverse and butcher. But the angelic cage fights, in the ring, one-on-one? He could do that all day.  
"All right, gather round everyone." Uriel soared up onto a raised dais with chocolate brown wings. "What you're up against today is a surprise, but the ultimate goal? Smite what needs to be smited, save what needs to be saved. You'll be ranked on your performance. Based on your technique, you'll be sorted into combat groups, paired off and duel to get us today's combat champion!"  
Dean and his crew grinned as the other angels groaned; hey, if they wanted to beat him, the combat champion for years now, they could either get good or get out. The stone floor and clean metallic structure of the complex dissolved, and Dean found himself on dark steps that descended down into a maw of darkness. An angel blade lay on a stone table in the stairwell; to prevent less-than-healthy hostile activity towards each other, the Academy of Holy War didn't allow their student to carry proper angel blades, but Dean always had a large knife smelted from the same material strapped to his calf. If his dad had taught him anything, it was to be prepared. And hell had dad prepared him and Sammy. Yeah, Sam decided to become a brainbox, but that kid would've still been able to take down half the punks in his class, no contest. It wasn't a surprise, really, that Dean had creamed the top dogs in the first week and asserted his authority as the baddest angel on this block.  
Dean slid his fingers around the cool, silver metal. This looked like a Salvation Run. Time to gank some demons and bust the innocent outta Hell.

Dean held the punk who thought it might be his lucky day in a neck-break hold and waited for him – Benny, he thought his name was – to flatten his metallic wings in submission. The warrior angel had taken down everyone willing to fight him in the ring (he went easy on his buddies cause he knew they'd let him win). It'd been like tipping dominoes; that easy.  
"C'mon sweetheart, don't make me make you." Dean tightened his grip and twisted ever so slightly to right. Benny gave a grunt of frustration and dropped his wings till they swept the floor. "Now that's a good boy."  
"And the combat champion of the day is Dean! Nothing out of the ordinary there." Uriel shot him a pleased smile as Benny limped out of the arena. If he turned about and tried to challenge Dean with a glower, he'd get his ass handed to him on a plate after class. Lucky for him, Benny seemed to know his place. They all did. Just how Dean liked it.  
 _This is an announcement for all angels at the Academy of Holy War._ The voice of their Managing Angel, Naomi, buzzed through on open-broadcast angel radio. _Tomorrow we shall be receiving a guest of great importance. All students of the Academy will gather in the open courtyard at 11.00am Earth Time._  
"Who d'you think it is?" Herias, one of Dean's gang, practically bounced with excitement. "Do you think it'll be an archangel?"  
"I hope not. Dean wrinkled his nose. "They'd probably just give us some holier-than-thou speech and expect us all to bow and grovel just to get looked at."  
He'd never seen an archangel in person, but they sounded annoying; what with their hundred heralds, their power complex now that great granddaddy G-man had left the building and the rods up their asses.  
"You can't say that, Dean!" Herias whispered in a hushed voice as if the angel expected Michael to hurtle like a flaming comet out of the sky towards them.  
"Oh lighten up, would ya?" Dean flicked his friend on the ear.  
"Yeah, Herias, who asked you?" Josephus crossed his arms and Herias flinched and shut their piehole.  
"It'll probably be some corporate asshole from Health and Safety, y'know, like that Zachariah guy that came here last time." Dean strode out into the heavenly light beyond the complex doors and his gang followed.  
"Yeah, I didn't pay attention to a single word he said." Josephus dusted some arena dirt off his black and white piebald wings and his buddy Xanthias snorted in agreement.  
"Right, I'm gonna go off and preen my feathers. Say hi to Hannah from me." Dean's crew were sometimes a little too basic for him. Yeah, they were easy to control and it was great to have the core of best fighters kissing his boots, but to hang out with? Dean very much doubted they'd appreciate his taste in Earth music, angelic pie-creation and the hours he spent in meditation trying to pick his father's wavelengths out of the millions on heaven and Earth. His friends cleared out the way as Dean spread his towering wings and whooshed into his room. Well, space. Every angel in heaven had their own little private space to inhabit.

Since Dean had no rank, his wasn't anything special; a tiny lakeside beach about 20ft long, a creation bench, and a tape player he'd picked up from Earth on the odd occasion he'd been allowed down. Both he and Sam were entitled to the space their father and mother had created before their mother had disappeared, but Dean couldn't handle the memories there. So he was stuck with small quarters until he grew old enough to fabricate one for himself – another few hundred years, damn it. But this place wasn't so bad. Dean stripped off his boots and shirt and plonked himself down at the edge of the water. He let out a sigh as the warm sand trickled between his toes and feathers. Sometimes he just loved to plunge a wing into the sand and let the grains tease the sensitive plumage – something a human might compare with a massage. Dean conjured himself up a beer and watched the sun dance on the face of the lake. This was much better than War Theory.

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Ehehe, building up the Cas suspense cause I'm a meanie ;) If you are confused about the Angel Generations please tell me - I have a diagram that explains everything and will put it or a link to it in the next chapter if people want it n.n Thank you all so much for your favs/follows and especially the comments! I love to hear what you guys think, so why not tell me what you thought of this chapter? Stay jazzy my homies (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧


	3. This Town Ain't Big Enough

"Hey, you lookin' for trouble pipsqueak?" Dean had been milling around in the Assembly Zone with the other students, waiting for their esteemed guest when some asshole thought it'd be ok to just jostle him out the way. He recognized those ochre wings – Coledai still hadn't learned his manners. "Oh, look who it is. Didn't learn your lesson last time?"  
"No – no I – " The shorter angel yelped as he noticed just who he'd pissed off – again. Well that gave Dean the warm and fuzzies.  
"Well why don't you beat it then?" The bigger angel twitched his wings open a fraction, and to his delight, the little guy swallowed.  
"Y-yeah, alright." Coledai turned, but Dean hooked a foot around his ankles and sent him smack bang onto his face.  
"What's your name, hot stuff? Walking Disaster?" Dean sniggered and Josephus and the gang picked up on what was going down. They formed a casual circle around the pretentious little pipsqueak.  
"It's Coledai, and I didn't mean it!" The smaller angel flattened his tan wings in submission but didn't lower his gaze. Bad move.  
"Who said you even got the right to look at me, tiny?" Dean grabbed the insolent little cherub by the front of the collar and hauled him up off the ground. "How about I teach you a lesson on manners right here and now?"  
Coledai tried to flap out of Dean's grasp, but only earned a bout of laughter from Josephus and Xanthia.  
"Leave him alone." A deep, calm voice grated from behind Dean. Who the Hell dared…? The warrior angel turned about and almost laughed out loud. Some little punk in a trenchcoat thought it'd be fun to get his face re-arranged, huh? What a shame – it was always the pretty ones that were jumped-up little bastards, and this one took the cake. Trenchcoat seemed to be trying to stare _him_ down. _Him._  
"Oh, you wanna take his place?" Dean raised an eyebrow, still holding Coledai a few inches off the floor. Josephus and Xanthias made an 'oooh' in the background. It seemed more angels had turned about to watch Trenchcoat get his ass kicked. Something did seem a familiar about the little dude, but he couldn't for the life of him pick out what.  
"If you let him go, then yes, you fight me." Trenchcoat's eyes narrowed in a challenge. Oh that was priceless.  
"You? _You?_ What are you gonna do, balance my cheque book?" Dean laughed, dropped Coledai and turned to meet his new victim face on. The nerd scurried away, and Dean didn't see the little fearful look he shot the new guy.  
"Well at least I don't have to prey on smaller, weaker angels to prove myself. Only a coward does that." Trenchcoat's tone didn't even change. Dean practically heard Josephus' jaw hit the floor.  
"Alright, you jumped up little nerd." Dean muttered and the now crowd of angels had to step back as he unfurled his tawny, eagle-like wings to their full extent. He watched for the black-haired angel's face to drop in fear, but Trenchcoat didn't even bat an eyelid. Hell, not even a single feather twitched in response; the other angel's black wings stayed neatly tucked behind his back.

Dean shot out a hand to grab those freakin nerdy coat lapels. In one fluid movement, before he could blink, Dean's arm was twisted up behind his back, his feet were struck out from under him and he was flat on his stomach in the dirt. Everything happened so fast that by the time Dean tried to fight back, the other angel had already pinned Dean's wings down with his knees. The grasp on his arm was rock solid, and Trenchcoat's forearm pinned his neck in place. A wash of heat swept through Dean, and a part of his mind suddenly became very sensitive to where his adversary was arranged in the space above him. Yeah, that's called humiliation, Dean. He swallowed and tried to move, but doing so would tear his wing muscle and pop his arm out of place.  
"My name is Castiel." Trenchcoat raised his voice to a volume that would have destroyed buildings on earth so that all the other angels could hear him. Oh shit. "While I am here, bullying and discrimination will not be tolerated. Do you understand me?"  
Dean heard a murmur of agreement, and the pressure on his neck, wings and arm vanished.  
"Would you… like to have another go at that?" Castiel's condescending encouragement hit a nerve, and the way those big blue eyes met his with some sort of mock concern just made him want to punch the black-winged angel's lights out. Well, he couldn't possibly get into worse trouble, so Dean held that gaze and clambered to his feet.  
"Yeah, why not?"  
"Dean – " Herias's eyes were full of fear, and the angel didn't even dare look at Castiel.  
"Shut your mouth." Dean growled and rolled his shoulders. This time he wouldn't be caught off-guard by a deceptive trenchcoat. Marshal of Heaven or not, if it bled, you could kill it – or take him down, in this case. Besides, Dean couldn't back down now – pretty much the entire Academy had watched his ass get kicked. He had a reputation to save.

This time he dropped into a proper fighting stance and prowled to one side. Castiel matched his steps, but the Marshal of Heaven didn't change his expression or posture. His wings stayed behind his back like sleeping vipers. Speed and Brutality, Dean thought. Well, they had that right. Maybe this fight was beyond his paygrade. Hell, he didn't even get paid. Another wash of humiliation-fuelled heat prickled over his body as they circled. Right. Go time. In a swift move, Dean threw out his wing to the left and punched Castiel with his right fist. Or would have if the angel hadn't blocked it and kicked Dean so hard in the stomach that he had to snap his wings into a flare to stop himself falling on his ass. With the momentum of his already-open span, his gave a flap, appeared right behind Castiel, but found his face full of black feathers. Before he could get over the shock of touching another angel's wings, the blue-eyed soldier stomped in the back of his knees, but no way was Dean ever going to kneel before this douchebag; he tried to twist to the side, but Castiel used his own motion to flip him onto his back; a position of ultimate submission. In a move faster than mortal sight, the older angel took hold of Dean's wrists, slammed them up above his head and straddled his chest. Dean gave a grunt of pain as he realized each of Castiel's knees had trapped a pinion against the ground a piece, and if he moved even slightly, the motion would rip out his feathers. They would take months to grow back, and flying would be hazardous without them.

Now those harsh black wings curved out like a question that was all too easy to read. Give up? Dean's jaw worked, but never in his entire life had he felt so utterly at the mercy of another angel. There was nothing he could do; Castiel had him check and mate. He broke eye contact with the smaller angel, let his head drop back and flattened out his wings as best he could without Castiel's knees ripping out his primaries. Great. Just great. He'd just been shown as weak in front of an entire school of warrior angels and Heaven's greatest douchebag, Castiel, just climbed up off his like they'd been discussing the weather or something!  
"No angel here should shame this student for yielding to me." Castiel looked about the crowd, calm to the point of unnerving. Damn, Dean should have recognized a First Generation Angel on sight. The Academy was mainly comprised of Second Generation Angels from after the First Holy War, and now that the Second Holy War had just ended, there were more Third Generation Angels like Dean and Sammy. The staff were First Generation (even that kooky janitor that left behind more candy wrappers than he cleaned up), so it wasn't as though didn't he know what one looked like.  
"If any of you think you can do better than him, then step forward and prove yourself right now." Castiel's piercing blue eyes swept across the assembly, but no-one dared move; they'd seen their best get his ass handed to him in five seconds flat.  
"That's settled then." Castiel's ferocious black wings whipped the air and he soared up to a point where everyone could see him. Dean climbed to his feet and scowled up at the Scourge of the Fallen. "Michael has commanded that I oversee the training of our new warriors. I will introduce new training regimes, tests, subjects and provide some of the tuition myself. The safety of Heaven and Earth lies with us, especially with you; the sword of our holy retribution. Yes, Lucifer is caged once more, and I saw him fall into Hell myself. Yet he escaped once, and may do so again; nefarious are his ways. In that time of need, that desperate hour, Heaven shall look to you to bring the wrath of God down upon sin and evil. And you _will_ be ready."  
Pretty words for such an asshole. Dean brushed the courtyard's dirt off his shirt. Nobody made him look weak, not even Castiel. And he had a plan to teach the jacked-up accountant a lesson.

* * *

Finally, Castiel is here! (⊙ヮ⊙) Also, Dean may need to chill. thank you all so much for your comments and follows/favs, I didn't expect so many! You're all amazing n.n If you like, tell me what you thought of this chapter, and I'd love to hear some predictions of what Dean has in mind, or anything really! Love y'all - Hades.


	4. I Fell Into A Burning Ring of Fire

It'd taken hours of waiting just for Bobbicus to go down to Earth on a special whisky run. Luckily just a week or two ago, Dean had noticed that Bobbicus was running short on the Earth-made booze he loved so much – that angel spent half the time tipsy; he had to with the amount he consumed. In the ten seconds Bobbicus was gone, Dean popped into his underground chambers, 'borrowed' what he needed and reappeared in the school basement. A lone candy wrapper on the old concrete told Dean that the janitor had already swept through here, so there'd be no disturbing them. He hoped to almighty granddaddy that this would work and searched for Castiel's frequency in the school. As soon as he found it and ensured it wasn't with the vibrations of any other angel, Dean sent a critical emergency distress call down the line. He knew this call was only meant for if he was dying, or had run into a Knight of Hell or even Lucifer himself, but it was the only call he knew Castiel would deem important enough to even consider answering. There was a whoosh of wings and Dean conjured a flame. Before Castiel could even look around the basement, he was encircled with Holy Fire.

"Decanos. What is the meaning of this?" Those electric eyes locked on him, but the shorter angel didn't raise his voice or summon his holy wrath. He just watched and waited, and that was the one thing about Castiel that threw Dean. There were no brazen words, no wing displays, no thunder and lightning. Just those silent eyes.  
"The name's Dean, asshat, and since you're the one in solitary right now, I'll be doing the talking." He paced around the ring of flames, emboldened by his own tough-talk. "You see, we got a system around here. I decide who doesn't look strong enough to make the cut and me and my band weed them out. Pretty straight forward. So here's there deal. You look the other way when I do my thing and I won't leave you to rot in a basement."  
"Did you really believe this plan would work, Dean." The angel's tone was deadpan and his face a mask; there was no way of knowing what Castiel thought.  
"You're the one in the holy fire, not me." Dean gave a cocky little smile, but Castiel didn't react.  
"Do you really believe that I could go missing without notice. That someone – even the janitor – would not find me eventually?" Castiel's gravelly voice echoed through the dim room, and Dean felt that heat trickle over him again. Was it humiliation? No, dad had taught him how to trap an angel. Dean had it covered.  
"When I leave, I'll ward the room. See I know a trick or two as well. No-one gets in, no-one gets out." Dean smirked. Check, you son-of-a-bitch.  
"If I wanted to escape your holy fire, I would simply carve a banishing sigil onto my body and banish myself." Castiel sighed as though he had better things to do with his day. But his answer threw Dean for a loop.  
"Only an insane angel would do that. You wouldn't survive!" Dean had never been banished, but Bobbicus told him it was one of the top ten most unpleasant angel experiences.  
"I've survived it before and took five fallen angels with me, Dean." Well, Castiel was insane then. What the actual heck. "Now listen. If you do not let me out of this holy fire, when I escape I shall ensure that you are expelled and disgraced. However, If you let me go right now, I will not see you expelled; in fact I wish to give you private tuition."  
"Private tuition? Are you nuts? I just trapped you in holy fire!" Dean looked the other angel up and down with confusion. "Why the hell would you do that?"  
"Don't you see it, Dean." Castiel paced as close as he could get to Dean and those blue eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "You are a ram among the sheep. Let me guess, that was the first time you have been beaten in a fight for a very long time."  
"Yeah…but that's because I'm a better fighter than everyone else!" Dean's wings puffed out in indignation.  
"Have you improved since you claimed the title of the best?" Castiel cocked his head and Dean found himself held in place by those blue eyes. It took a moment for him to realize Castiel was waiting for an answer.  
"Uh, well…" Now that he thought about it…he had learned a few things, but was still at the same level he had been when he arrived here; better than the rest, but not improved.  
"Some angels are bred to be rank and file angels: soldiers we can throw on the front line when a major Hellgate opens or something of the like." Castiel didn't seem to notice Dean's lapse in attention, and Dean couldn't get his head around it. Usually it was boredom that made him lapse, but he…didn't feel bored. "In the Second Holy War, we lost a lot of rank and file angels – the building blocks of the army, as it were. This Academy is engineered to train up angels with a closed mind-set to rebuild the lesser troops. Uriel especially likes to train up warriors who will never be stronger than he is, which is good for angels made for the cause of sacrifice, but not for angels like you."  
"And what am I?" Dean raised his eyebrows at the other angel, but Castiel didn't seem to catch his scornful tone. Uriel would never do that. Not to him. But then again…Castiel was right. He hadn't improved, and Uriel would be able to take him down if he'd wanted to.  
"Don't you wonder why the other angels at the War Academy respect you and flock to you, Dean?" Castiel queried, and Dean wondered how much research the Third Marshal of Heaven had done on him while he'd been on a holy oil mission.  
"I thought it was because of my sparkling personality." Dean overcame his internal struggles and shot his captive a little grin.  
"You, and I'm betting your brother Samuel, are both born and bred leaders." The shorter angel grated. "I knew it the moment you stood up, knowing who I was, and still wanted to prove yourself. Your classmates did not even dare look at me, yet you fought me twice."  
"So what if I do go to your little…karate training bootcamp, hmm?" Dean knew whichever way this went, he was screwed. So making a deal with the Marshal of Heaven had to be the way to go.  
"You must never bully the weak again." Castiel's eyes were hard set.  
"Bully? I'm not a bully, I – "  
"How would you like it if I found you every single day, hurt you, taunted you and drove you to the point of such fear and shame that you did not wish to return to this place ever again, that you did not wish to do what you once enjoyed?" Castiel's words stole his voice, now that he'd been refreshed on humiliation tasted like. No, that…that wasn't… Was…was that what he did? He never really remembered when he'd gone from taking his anger over being abandoned and hurt to his core out on Seminar Foes to other angels. Uriel had taken him in, had fed him on glory and pride and the righteous mission of the greater good of Heaven. Wasn't it right that he should strengthen the ranks by whittling off those who didn't fit the mould? Or was he just so caught up in validation and the desire to be wanted, needed, that he'd been blinkered to what he'd become? Dean was not good with feelings. It was as though he were waking up from the ease of a comfortable fantasy and parts of him just wanted to stay there, ignorant to the words of the other angel. He dropped his gaze to the floor.  
"I don't….."  
"Take my offer Dean." Castiel was right at the edge of the flames, and Dean hadn't realized that he was too. How had he not noticed himself walk over here? "And let me go."  
"Alright. I'll do it. I'll stop creaming nerds and you'll tutor me? " Dean looked back up to the older angel with more bravado than he felt and he shoved everything he didn't want to face to the back of his consciousness.  
"Deal." Castiel tilted his jaw, and a tingle ran through Dean's wings. He chalked it down to a random sensation, although the impression that this felt more like a conversation with a demon than an angel was definitely not a coincidence. Maybe Castiel wasn't so much of a douche after all, but dangerous? Yes. Even in the holy fire, he'd tipped the power back into his own hands, and that kind of manipulation wasn't something Dean had expected from an angel who commanded troops. Politicians, maybe. Then again, he was looking at the third in line to the throne of Heaven, unless Gabriel sprang back up again. Wow, now that he put it like that, maybe he should have been more afraid of Castiel.  
Dean conjured a bucket of water and tossed it onto the fire.

As soon as he did so, he knew he'd made a mistake. Those cruel black wings flew open in rage, not massive and imposing like Dean's, but tapered and sleek like a razor-sharp knife. If the younger angel hadn't been so startled, he might have realized he'd seen that shape before.  
"Hey – " Dean raised an arm to defend himself, but Castiel snatched it out of the air, spun him around and thrust him hard against the wall. He would have tried to buffet the other angel off him with his wings, but froze as the cold point of an angel blade dug into his throat. For the first time in years, fear shot through his being. Maybe Castiel would kill him, and maybe he deserved it.  
"If you ever trap me in holy fire again, I will rip off your wings and cast down you to Earth myself." Castiel snarled, and Dean was dizzy and panting even though he'd been in worse scenarios. "Do you understand me?"  
"Yes." Dean breathed, but his mind had suddenly switched from 'nearly being killed oh no' to the sensation of Castiel pinning him to the wall. He'd been pinned to a wall before. What was so special?  
 _"Do you understand me?"_ The tip the angel blade drew blood, and Dean gasped as his grace shone out the wound.  
"Yes, damnit, I understand!" Dean barked, and the sword left his neck.  
"Good." Castiel stowed the angel blade back into his trenchcoat, but when Dean turned to look at him, his eyes still simmered with rage. "Then meet me in the West Wing of the Training Complex, Chamber 1CA tomorrow at 3pm Earth Time."  
And with that Castiel vanished.  
"Hey, are you two done in there?" The janitor, a very short angel with brown hair and a cheeky look about him, poked his head around the corner with a wink. "I think I missed a spot."  
"Uhh…yeah, yeah, we're…we're done." Dean took a breath as he looked at the blood on his fingers. It'd been a long time since he'd seen that, but maybe this was for the better. Castiel made him feel like a child; young, immature, small and petulant. Was he being childish? Was he blinded and taken in by Uriel? Or was Castiel, Mr Righteous Accountant, in the wrong here? Dean picked up the holy oil and set a course for Bobbicus' space. He needed an honest opinion about himself, and if Bobbicus was anything, he was blunt.

* * *

We get to hear from Castiel next! :D I'd love to hear what you thought of the chapter, where you think it's going or anything at all! I'm sorry if I don't answer comments, but I really don't like the format Fanfic net has for comments - if you have any questions, I'll answer them in these Author Notes c: I'm sorry not sorry for calling Bobby Bobbicus. I legit call him that while watching the show anyway because ily Bobbicus. I'm not sure what Gabriel is up to, but then again who ever knows what Gabriel is up to. Stay awesome my homies! ( °٢° )


	5. Revelations

Castiel slumped into a chair in the work space the Academy had so graciously given him. Oh no. Oh noo. He drew a holy hand across his face and gave a long sigh. He'd heard about this. But really? Now, after billions of years, it had to happen now? Dean was… a problem. But, he hated to admit to himself, a very attractive problem. Another wash of that dreaded heat danced through Castiel's Grace as he thought of those long eyelashes, speckled green eyes and soft, tawny wings. Why couldn't he just be one of those angels who never went through this? Angels weren't wired to mate very often, if at all. Only after the First Holy War, when the angel population had been almost halved, did the first few discover that they were actually able to reproduce – yes, that had been a shock. Castiel remembered they had believed it to be some sort of sickness at first, until the first baby angel arrived, and quite suddenly too; angel reproduction wasn't as complicated or painstaking as that of Earth creatures. To the extent of his knowledge, the process was fairly simple: if a pair of angels were taken by the instinct, they mated and decided whether or not they wished to have offspring (how the first couples knew they had a choice, Castiel had to put down to an innate notion) unless the angel population was critical, and then offspring was guaranteed. Then part of their Grace fused on a subatomic level to create another set of angel Grace, thus another angel. But most angels viewed mating as an unnecessary complication, undignified and even irritating when their co-workers suddenly started acting odd. Some angels even found the thought of being so 'debased' downright abhorrent. Very little study had actually been put into the mechanics of it once the holy host figured out it wasn't a disease, and Castiel had never seen or heard a first-hand account of what the process was actually like to experience.

"Heat. A lot of heat." Castiel muttered and massaged his temples. The heat wasn't unpleasant, but… distracting? If it got worse, it would be. Would it become painful if he didn't pursue Dean? Castiel had to credit the other angel; he had nerve, trapping him in holy fire. True, the Marshal of Heaven had no idea whether banishing himself within holy fire would actually work, but you didn't get anywhere in angel politics without lies and deceit. He knew he'd been a bit lax to fall for Dean's trap like that, but it was the second time in his millions of years that he'd heard that call, and it had torn through his Grace as powerfully as it had the first time; the older angel had always wondered why that cry had been so strong. Now he knew. Dean must have been too young at the time for this process to start, but now…

Castiel sighed and flicked through his mental notes until he found the Academy schedule. Yes, he could freely admit Dean was a bully and a thug, but whether he was a product of his surroundings or simply had a spiteful temperament, Castiel had yet to know for sure. He hadn't looked too pleased with himself back in the basement, and he had agreed to be tutored in exchange for the termination of his violent behaviour toward others…  
Come on Castiel, get with it! He gave himself a mental pinch as the image of Dean's broad shoulders covered his notes for a moment. Great first day Castiel: You beat up a student twice, got lured into a holy fire trap and your essence decided it wanted to reproduce with the worst possible candidate. He sighed as someone knocked on the office door.  
For all he was worth, he wished there was a cure.

***  
"Hello?" Dean poked his head around the doorway to Bobbicus' lounge.  
"Dean. Been on a date with my holy oil, I see." The plaid clad, bearded angel harrumphed.  
"Just couldn't help myself." Dean gave a guilty little grin. No, Bobbicus wasn't an angel that would suplex his ass, but that sly dog had tricks up his sleeve that even Dean didn't want to be subjected to.  
"Oh, hey Dean." Sam called out from the window seat, where him and some nerdy kid were trying to make a book fortress out of the wizened angel's collection. "Long time no see! And what are you doing with Bobbicus' holy oil?"  
Dean fixed Sam's bookworm buddy with a death stare. "Beat it, short stop, I got family business to talk about."  
"Dean!" Sam protested, but the other angel just closed his book with a nervous glance the older brother. "Kevin, you don't have to – "  
"Don't worry, I can come round another day… or - or call me when it's a good time." This Kevin guy gave Bobbicus a nod and with a patter of deep purple wings, he vanished.  
"Dean!" Sam threw his hands up and seemed to look to Bobbicus for help. "Seriously, dude, what is up with you?"  
"How about I tell you about my day and then you tell me." Dean tucked the holy oil in a corner and prepared himself to try and express emotions.

"You did what?" Both Sam and Bobbicus blurted out.  
"Yeah, I trapped his ass in holy oil. But then he offered to give me one-on-one tutorials and I figured I'd benefit more from that than leaving him to rot, huh?" Dean admired their shocked expressions as he told his very, very well edited story.  
"You trapped Castiel in holy fire?" Sam ran his hand through that flowing mane. Seriously, they weren't in biblical times anymore, Sammy.  
"Yeah? And?" Dean shrugged.  
"And you're lucky he didn't shiv your ass the moment you let him loose, ya idjit!" Bobbicus poured himself another glass of whisky. "That angel has a reputation fifty miles across! Angels, demons, the damn Devil for the love of Pete…you name it, he's fought it, and you think that a school kid like you could get the drop on him?"  
"Sometimes I just can't believe I'm related to you." Sam pinched the bridge of his nose betwixt his fingers. "You're a moron, you know that?"  
"Yeah, and apparently I'm a bully and a thug too." Dean shuffled his wings with discomfort and studied Bobbicus' carpet, but if he was waiting for one of them to jump to his defence, he'd have to wait a long time. "Am I?"  
"Yeah. Yeah you are!" Sam just had to sugar-coat everything. Bobbicus just nodded in the background. "Half the angels in my lectures won't take the shortcut between the Training Complex and the back of the Artefact Museum without me because they don't want to run into you and your thugs!"  
"What? How? How am I a bully?" Dean grumped and threw up his hands. The worst part is that deep down – ok maybe not that deep down at all – he knew they were right. Castiel, Sam, Bobby…they all knew. They knew he'd somehow turned out wrong. The worst part, that sickened him to his stomach, was that he knew he'd turned out wrong too.  
"Well the way you threw around your weight with Kevin for one." Sam gestured at the Kevin-less space beside the window.  
"Look son, ever since your dad made it his holy mission to find your mother, you've been a loose cannon." Bobbicus sighed and offered Dean a drink which he took. "I'm just glad you got accepted into the Academy when you did, or who knows what part of Earth you'd be messin' up. But y'know, yesterday you woulda winged up in here, all bold and brash with some glorious hothead story. But now look at you. Askin' the right questions, that's what you're doing. "

Dean peered into the amber liquid. The Academy of War had Enochian binding in its contract; any angels in combat training couldn't go to Earth unsupervised or access certain parts of Heaven. That and the age restrictions didn't allow Dean to go hardly anywhere, so he had to either power his way through and earn a rank that'd allow him special access or drop out of the Academy and wait a few hundred years to track his dad. Since Bobbicus kept an ear out for the old man and since dad had probably warded himself against everyone including The Almighty, Dean had decided to stay on. But then he'd tried to prove himself, gone too far, got involved with Uriel and Josephus who had…all but brainwashed him, looking back... Dean just about kicked himself for being so stupid. He should have seen them as A-Grade assholes from the get go. His usually-proud mottled wings drooped. How had he let himself join the dickhead ranks?  
"You're right. You're both right, and I've been too much of an arrogant douchebag to pull my head outta my ass." He took a swallow of whisky and couldn't bring himself to look at the pair of them. Instead, he took a seat on one of Bobbicus' old stools. "I'm a douchebag. A first class, A-grade, crème de la crème douchebag."  
Castiel was right too. He was a bully, a coward and had enjoyed being the king of his own little domain so much that he'd squandered himself.  
"Take Castiel's classes, Dean." Sam's eyes were full of sympathy, and for once Dean was glad he didn't have to worry about whether someone was a threat or a challenge or deserved to be taught a lesson. It was childish. "He's been at the Academy one day and already you're already better than you have been in years."  
"And he'll teach you a thing or two, that's for sure." Bobbicus nodded and Dean shook his head with a smile.  
"I…I lied about that story with Castiel. He almost did shiv my ass the moment I let him go. In fact, I should've been expelled for being such an idiot." Dean held his glass up to be refilled, and it felt good to drop the puffing and preening act. That's all it had been. Even though it'd gone on for years…that's not who he was, so why kid himself anymore? Other people shouldn't suffer because of his own messed up head.  
"Well, it looks like he's giving you a chance Dean. And this is Castiel we're talking about." Sam smiled; Dean's so-called friends never smiled with such warmth. How had he not noticed he'd surrounded himself with asshats? "A chance from Castiel could set you up for life."  
"Yeah, well, I don't deserve it." Dean rubbed his forehead with one hand and fingered his glass in the other as a pit of self-hatred welled in his stomach.  
"Listen up, idjit, whether you deserve it or not, you got it." Bobbicus pointed at him and raised those grey eyebrows. "So you buck up and use it to make amends, or so help me, I'll kick your ass."  
"Thanks Bobby. You always know what to say." Dean swallowed another shot of whisky. "Hey Sam, call Kevin back."  
"What?" Sam looked at him like he'd just sprouted antlers.  
"Call Kevin back. I want to apologize." He sighed. May as well start making amends now.  
"This I have to see." Bobbicus took a seat while a bemused Sam tuned into Kevin's wavelength.

After a moment, two wingbeats heralded the other angel's arrival.  
"Uuh, hey." Kevin looked from Sam, to Bobbicus and kinda glanced at Dean.  
"Hey Kevin." Dean rested his elbows on his thighs and looked up at the academic angel. "I am really sorry about how rude I was to you earlier. Feel free to stick around and continue your book…thing with Sam."  
"Is this a joke?" Kevin eyeballed Sam, who gave a tiny shake of his head. "This has to be a joke."  
"No joke." Dean smiled and it almost felt as though a weight were lifted off his chest that he hadn't noticed existed. "Go on, pull up a book."  
The petite, black-haired angel sat down on the window seat as though it were made of rice paper. "That is Dean, right?"  
"Yeah. I think." Sam nodded, his glorious locks bouncing with angelic hair products.  
"Hey Bobby, can I crash here until next Academy shift?" Dean felt the old self he thought he'd lost when dad had vanished come bubbling up within him. The one that wasn't a douchebag, the one that didn't need to punch something to feel validated. "And does anyone want pie? Cause I do."  
Sam, Bobby and Kevin all exchanged terrified yet pleased looks as Dean strode off into the kitchen whistling some weird Earth song.

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Aghh, formatting was being a right biatch today ヽ༼≖ل͜≖༽ﾉ anyhoo...Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I hope Castiel helped explain some things ;) I really appreciate all your comments, favs and follows etc, so thank you so much! I would very much like to hear what you thought of the chapter, so why not leave a comment? Love y'all and stay jazzy my homies ᕦ( ᐛ )ᕡ


	6. The Turning Tide

"Castiel?" Dean poked his head around the door of Chamber 1CA. Like the other rooms, it was little more than a chrome box ready to be subjected to a simulation. What Castiel would conjure up for him, Dean couldn't imagine. He hadn't gone to any of classes today; he'd needed a little bit of time to find himself again, and chilling out with Sam, Bobbicus and even Kevin with beers and Bobbicus' HD reminiscent stories had been the first real fun he'd had in ages.  
"Hello Dean." Even though Dean was early, the older angel had been waiting for him. The stark light in the room gave his face an edge of deceptive beauty that Dean hadn't noticed in other angels. In any case, he strode toward where his tutor stood. "I'm glad you decided to show up."  
"Yeah, well…" Dean looked away from Castiel's sapphire gaze as warmth prickled through his cheeks and neck. What was this feeling? Was he ill? "I figured you were right. Before I came to the Academy I wouldn't have done any of those things. In fact past me probably woulda kicked my ass on principle."

Castiel shifted so close to Dean that there was barely a foot between them. With other angels, they could be nose to nose and Dean wouldn't have batted an eye. But even though Castiel wasn't touching him, his chest, shoulders, the parts of him Castiel was opposite to tingled and the sensation spiralled down his legs.  
"Take this." The Marshal of Heaven handed him a long, steel knife. Dean's eyes lingered, for some reason, on the other angel's lips before meeting his gaze again. "They are standard human weapons, so the risk of injury is very unlikely."  
Even though they were only steel, Dean took it with apprehension. He'd learned the hard way not to underestimate Castiel and wouldn't put it past the black-winged angel to have some tricks with human weapons up his sleeve.  
"Now you will attack me." Castiel took a step back, and Dean realized he'd been holding his breath. True, angels didn't need to breathe so it was more of a habit or a comfort thing than a necessity, but usually he didn't even notice he was doing it. Dean roped in his weird reactions and focussed on the task at hand. In all honesty, he had no idea how to defeat Castiel without going full coward again and breaking out the holy oil. But if Dean was anything, he was stubborn, and part of him was still too proud to ask the other angel for pointers. He just had to be prepared for how damn fast Castiel moved. Well, he had to start somewhere, so Dean arched his wings up over them and slashed the blade out in one fluid move. Castiel parried, as Dean was prepared for, but then the smaller angel did something that almost certainly would have got Dean disciplinary action if he'd done it in class. Castiel ducked under his outstretched wing, slid his hand right to near the base of the appendage and clenched his fingers into the tiny, sensitive feathers on the underside of the wing. Dean gave a yell of pain as Castiel gave a firm yet light tug upwards and the younger angel dropped to his knees.  
"Let go, let go – ahh! Stop, please Cas!" It felt as though the other angel was about to rip his wing off. It stung, smarted through his essence like acid on a human's skin and a deeper pain pooled somewhere in his Grace. Dean gave a groan of relief as Cas released him.  
"That was …you're…touching other angel's wings…it's just wrong!" Dean finished as he took his tutor's proffered arm and climbed back to his feet. "Or playing fair – it's against the combat code!"  
"Out there, playing fair will get you killed." Cas' fingers lingered on his arm for a moment, but neither his hard-set eyes or blank face matched the action, so Dean thought nothing of it. "If you want to be the best of the best and stand among the ranks of the archangels, then you play by every trick in the book. Your weakness is your basic attack methods and the way you expose your wings to your opponent."  
Cas paced around him. "Intimidation may be a viable strategy to you, but keep displays and fighting separate. Do not give your opponent access to your wings, especially as yours are still young."  
"What's that got to do with it?" Dean could feel the other angel's eyes on his feathers as Cas scrutinized him. Then his tutor stepped back into his line of vision and unfurled one coarse black wing.

Dean hadn't had time before to take a good look, and now he spoiled himself. It wasn't a thing of dainty beauty, that was for sure. The feathers were scarred and pockmarked in places, even on the sensitive underside. They sang of death, fear and sorrow – not only the physical elements, but the aura they gave off too. It was like looking at a wickedly-sharp ancient sword whose notched blade had absorbed the lifeblood of its foes. Dean swallowed in awe, but a shock of some sort of pleasurable sensation lanced down his spine. He bit his lip in confusion. Maybe he should ask Bobbicus what sort of angel-fevers existed.  
"Touch the exterior feathers." Cas nodded towards the back of his wing. This was taboo. Angels weren't supposed to do this; even parents didn't touch their children's wings if they could help it. Cas seemed to notice Dean's apprehension. "I am completely fine with it, but if you are not – "  
"No, no, I'm good." Dean raised a hand and ran his fingers over the inky feathers as a throb pulsed through his being. Ignore it, Dean. Whatever was going on with him right now wasn't going to interfere with these lessons. Cas's wing felt like tempered steel beneath his fingers; hard, impenetrable and cold.  
"How…?" Dean's own wings were soft on the outside, a little tougher than the underside but not like steel.  
"When your wings are distressed enough over battles, when they have taken damage and learn to expect more, they form an energy field of protection." Cas flicked his wing, and the primary feather beneath Dean's finger took on a softer texture again. "Turning it on and off becomes innate after a while. We'll work on forming your energy barrier in the next less – "  
Cas' deep voice hitched as the tip of Dean's finger slid by accident onto the underside of the primary feather and the wing snapped closed.  
"Apologies, that was instinctive." Cas didn't look at Dean for a moment, and the light caught his clean-cut jawline. After a few seconds Dean realized he was staring and that there was a silence that needed to be filled. Little did he know that the only thing keeping Castiel's white-hot desire from showing was a couple of million years' experience at keeping his cool and a natural-born pokerface.  
"No, I really shouldn't have, uh, done that." Another rush swept over the younger angel and he felt struck dumb and motionless by something he pinned down to nerves. Yeah, of course he was nervous because he wasn't blinkered by a mask of idiocy anymore.  
"Your combat style is very similar to Raphael in some respects." Cas ploughed on as if nothing had happened. "You put on a good show of strength, but your moves are somewhat predictable – as to be expected of Academy training."  
He flipped the human knife about in one hand. "Allow me to remedy that."

Three hours later, Dean ached where he didn't think it was possible to ache, burned in a way he couldn't blame on pain, but somehow couldn't be happier. Cas was a little holier-than-thou sometimes, but Dean could listen to that gravelly voice instruct him on the art of war until the second coming of Christ. Not to mention the intense blue of those eyes, or the even more intense stare they fixed upon him. Even as Dean strode around the side of the Training Complex, Cas's striking features swam to the fore of his mind without his permission. Before he tried to confront why his thoughts seemed to have thoughts of their own, a crow of laughter hauled him back to the real world.  
"So you thought you'd just be _allowed_ to step on our territory without some sort of consequence?" Josephus, Xanthia and Herias had cornered an auburn-haired angel. Her russet wings shifted behind her as she took in the three warriors.  
"Y'know, you're right. I think I'll just…leave." She backed up, but Xanthia just appeared behind her and gripped her shoulder. "Come on guys, I'm not doing anything wrong here!"  
"Hey!" Dean called out and marched toward the four of them. The auburn-haired angel's eyes widened in fear and Josephus grinned.  
"Oh hey Dean! Come and join the party! We thought Castiel had scared you off." The arrogant prick smirked. How had they ever been friends?  
"You're gonna let her go Josephus." Dean growled and raised his wings in a warning. He wouldn't make the mistake of leaving them open if the other angel decided to pick a fight with him though.  
"Excuse me?" Josephus choked out a laugh of disbelief and raised his eyebrows. "What's the matter with you? Nerds like this need to be taught a lesson!"  
"No they don't. She has as much right to be here as we do." Dean gave his former friend a death glare and sized them up. Herias wouldn't be a problem; they were already backing off. But Xanthia and Josephus stood their ground.  
"Yeah…you better listen to him!" The auburn-winged angel looked between them all with wide eyes. "Look, he's all big and…everything."  
"Shut it, toothpick." Xanthia growled and shook her as Josephus directed a sneer at Dean.  
"What, are you afraid of Castiel, huh? Did big scary Dean get his wings clipped by a politician?" Josephus turned about and raised his piebald wings to match Dean's challenge. Was this what Dean had looked like to the others at the Academy? Yes, Dean. The fact that he'd thought trapping Castiel in Holy Fire would work was testimony enough.  
"Castiel was right about me and he's right about this too. It needs to stop. Now."  
"You know I've fought you a million times, right, in the combat ring? I know all your tricks." Josephus puffed out his wings with pride. "You're all bark, no bite."

Speed and brutality, Dean thought. Pride and arrogance was a weakness, and Cas had told him not an hour ago that if an opponent was caught up talking about their achievements or the failures of others, not to let them finish (unless you wished to buy time). Be rude and attack them mid-monologue. Playing by the rules was too predictable.  
"So me and Xanthia here will – "  
Dean snapped his wings shut, ducked under the black-haired angel's wing, sank his nails into that awful spot Cas had shown him and tore upwards. Josephus screamed and hit the deck. Xanthia pounced on his back and tried to wrap an arm around Dean's neck for a break hold, but Dean smashed his head upwards into the other angel's nose. He grabbed the thug's arm, tucked his ass into the pivot point on the other angel's hip and threw them over his shoulder. Josephus still retched in the dust, and Dean didn't give Xanthia the chance to get up. He stamped on the angel's holy version of a solar plexus and when they gagged and curled up into a ball, he caught the wing trying to defend its owner and twisted it upwards so the joint was in the verge of popping out.  
"Pick up Josephus and get the hell outta here." Dean growled as the other angel whimpered. Herias had vanished. "I won't mess with you unless you make me stand in the place of those not strong enough to fight back. You make your peace with them, I make my peace with you, we're all happy little ducks, ok?"  
"Yeah, fine." Xanthia spat. Dean was tempted to do a Cas and pull a knife on his ass to drive his point home, but everyone knew that would've been an empty threat; the Third Marshal of Heaven might be able to get away with righteous murder, but Dean couldn't just go around stabbing angels. He let the bully go and turned back to the female angel as Xanthia flapped out of their space with Josephus.

"Go Dean!" The ginger angel punched him in the arm with a wide grin. Her auburn wings fluttered with excitement and glee. "You showed 'em!"  
"What's your name?" Dean smiled at the cheery aura around this angel. She seemed like someone he'd pick over Josephus and Xanthia any day.  
"Charlie! I've met your brother Sam over at Lore, but he always says to steer clear of you." Charlie gave a nervous laugh, but didn't scarper. A sick vice gripped his gut as he realized that Sam's friends were amongst his previous victims, and the fact that even Sam being upset hadn't been able to straighten him out was just shameful.  
"Yeah…that's reasonable I guess." He gave a wan smile and ducked his head. "I'm proud to admit I've abandoned the douchebag wagon for once and for all. What are you doing in the War Academy anyhow?"  
"Well I thought maybe a self-defence course would come in handy, but it turns out I need self-defence to get to the self-defence course…" Charlie gave another laugh as she set off at a brisk walk toward the Training Complex. Almost being pulverised by Heaven's assholes-in-training hadn't even taken the spring out of her step. "And I busted a wing in a coding accident, so I could exactly pop in and out."  
She lifted an auburn wing which all but glowed with colour, and revealed a precise, square hole in her feathers.  
" _Coding_ did that?" Dean raised incredulous eyebrows.  
"Yeah…Heaven and angels are a very technical system. Like, with special technique and instruments you could basically hack an angel, but that's illegal, not to mention kinda torture." Charlie shot him a quick glance. "Not that I, y'know, torture angels no, no, this wing thing was me trying to find a code that might repair damaged Grace rather than relying on archangels. Didn't quite go to plan."  
"Well yeah, I can see that!" Dean laughed and took another glance at the clean-punched square hole. "That's pretty badass though. You can do that?"  
Charlie all but beamed. "That and a hundred different other things! Soon we'll be learning how to program personal Heavens, but my speciality is security. Prisons, vaults – even The Cage could technically be hacked by an angel with enough expertise! Not that anyone would want to though."  
She shrugged, and Dean couldn't help but think that this was the most natural conversation he'd had with a student yet, although he'd been at the Academy for years. Seriously Dean, what were you thinking?  
"I mean, I don't mean to overshoot myself, but my tutor said I am really talented in Security Coding, like super advanced First Generation Angel level stuff. But Naomi won't let me progress until I've got the other fields sorted, but that's life I suppose." Charlie sighed and looked up at Dean, a little playful smile on her face.  
"Y'know, I could teach you some self defense moves if that'll help?" He just wanted an excuse to see Charlie some more; he needed a few more bubbly auras in his life.  
"Like that one you pulled on that jerk Josephus? Hell yeah!" Charlie grinned and practically lit up the open vestibulum of the Training Complex they'd just entered. "But I shouldn't disappoint Leiel today, y'know. But next time!"  
"Ok." Dean clapped her on the arm. "You got my frequency in case you get into trouble again though? Drop me a line and I'll wing my ass over."  
Charlie closed her eyes for a moment, and Dean felt a little tug in his being.  
"Got it." She beamed. "See ya round, Dean, and thanks!"  
Dean found himself in a hug, and it had been so long since someone had tried to embrace him that he almost went into shock. By the time he remembered hugging back was a thing, she let go.  
"Yeah, maybe we can work on that." The auburn-winged angel laughed, gave a little wave and headed off towards her class.

Dean watched her go with a smile. One day out of douchebag camp and he'd already made a friend, learned some sweet new moves and saved someone from Josephus and his buddies. Maybe staying on at the Academy wouldn't be so terrible. For some reason the sight of Cas's feathers beneath his fingers pushed to the fore of Dean's thoughts, along with the older angel's hitch of breath when he'd accidentally touched the underside of his wing. The strange desire to touch Cas again, to brush his lips or stroke that clean-shaven jaw bubbled up inside him.  
"Seriously Dean, are you crazy?" He muttered to himself and set off back to his own space.

* * *

Next chapter we get a bit from Castiel c: I'd really love to hear what you think of the fic so far, so why not leave a comment? (✿ʘ‿ʘ) Stay awesome my homies!


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